No Such Thing as a Tooth Fairy
by RenaRoo
Summary: Damian is bedridden. His brothers are relentless. His sister is small comfort.


anonymous prompted: Damian's siblings cheering him up when he is bedridden due to an injury or recovering from surgery.

I am.. trying desperately to fill out as many of these prompts as I can before midnight. WE'LL JUST SEE HOW THAT GOES. I'm also miserable at writing a good Damian, anon. I'm sorry :( I hope this satisfies.

Batman and related properties © DC Comics  
story © RenaRoo

 **No Such Thing as a Tooth Fairy**

"And here we are, Master Damian," Pennyworth says, smoothly settling Damian against the mattress and lifting the sheets up to his chin.

There is nervous restless from behind the butler, but the man pays it no mind. The ever proper British gentleman is giving the young man his full attention.

Damian is still far too groggy from hours of pain killers and anesthesia to fully appreciate the sentiment. Not that he's going to give the butler a medal for doing his _job._

(Though he would - of all of this extensive family, Pennyworth is by _far_ the most reasonable.)

The curtains are already drawn and the sheets snug. It almost makes the consistent _pull_ of wires and taste of metal unnoticeable. Almost.

Pennyworth turns off the lamp, submerging Damian into darkness.

"Do rest well, Sir," he says gently, exiting the room. Though, oddly enough, Pennyworth does not close the door.

For a moment, Damian's mind is conscious enough to question the action, when the restless noise starts up again in the dark and a looming presence is by his bed. When the silence goes on a moment longer, the identity of his visitor is revealed.

He bothers to squint his eyes through the darkness to peer at his father.

The man shifts feet before heading back to the door. "Rest up," Father says in a poor man's imitation of the wily affection of Pennyworth.

The door closes and Damian rather quickly slips into the sleep of the damned.

* * *

Everything is still sore and Damian wants to go out and murder Two-Face with his own hands by midday following the jaw surgery. He isn't sure what he was expecting after having his jaw broken, but being utterly miserable because of his _mouth_ wasn't high on his list.

There is no reason for his neck and torso and everything south of said jaw to be throbbing. Though he allows an exception for his headaches. He was warned to anticipate those.

Still, his time between drifting in and out of consciousness is spent being a throbbing mess unwilling to move from the mounts of sheets and pillows that have collected themselves around him.

Pennyworth's visits must be like clockwork because Damian has thus far only woken once to still having drool on his face and pillow. Which is remarkable. He has counted _eleven_ times he has woken up since the night before.

He's beginning to feel his aggravation growing when his door opens and his eldest sibling enters.

Really, it's not at all a surprise that the first to attempt entertaining him beyond a poor attempt at serving breakfast is Grayson.

There is a tinge of red hue in Grayson's ears and high on his cheeks still which betray a previous emotional outburst, as does his tense shoulders.

Ah, so that explains the raised voices from Father's study half an hour before.

Still, that sad smile is plastered onto Grayson's face. "Hey, Li'l D," he says, gracefully making his way across the room to the bed. "Rough night, huh?"

Damian's eyes narrow and he releases a hot breath through his nose. The wires feel sharp on his tongue but he can't quite manage to keep it away from them.

"Sorry, sorry," Grayson tries for a lighthearted laugh, crossing to the other side of the bed where Damian has provided slightly more room on accident, and inviting himself to the space. "Don't answer that, I know it probably hurts."

The last statement has some bite to it, and it's fairly easy for Damian to assume who the anger is directed toward.

When Grayson was his partner, none of the Rogues were quite as off limits as Harvey Dent. With his Father as Batman, Damian has been more privy to why his father is sympathetic toward a former friend.

It has also gotten Damian familiar with the business end of a wrecking ball.

"How tired are you?" the former Robin asks conversationally, looking to Damian's face for answers but not waiting for Damian to even attempt actual communication. "I figured by this time today you'd be mostly up. Well. Relatively speaking. So, I'm going to keep you company. How's that sound?"

It sounds miserable.

Damian is working on saying as much when his brother is reaching around and grabbing the television remote. Grayson flips the television on, scooting closer to Damian somehow in the process.

Every jarring motion makes Damian flinch, which causes his head to hurt more, which makes him want to find a way to kick Grayson out even _more._ But, rather than any of that, he finds Grayson's warmth oddly satisfactory.

"Don't suppose you have a preference?" Grayson asks before settling on a cartoon station. "Ah, the classics."

There have been worse days, Damian supposes.

* * *

By the third episode in which the damn cat manages to not catch the mouse, Damian feels ready to dose off but the door opens again.

It's Drake.

Damian is not sure _why_ it is Drake, but that is indeed who walks in to Damian's ever growing confusion. More than that, Drake has one of Pennyworth's trays and it has two sandwiches and one cup of Jell-o.

"Hey," Drake says, sparing a look to the television. He blinks, apparently having as much investment in the show as Damian, before continuing to approach the bed. "Alfred has lunch."

"All I get is Jell-o?" Grayson jokes, grinning ear to ear as he reaches for one of the glasses of milk. "I hope that other one's for you to join us, Tim. I can't keep all of Damian warm at the same time."

Drake hums, settling the tray on the nightstand and holding out the cup of Jell-o and a spoon to Damian. Which he takes warily.

"Just because he can't talk doesn't mean he can't carve me open with that spoon," Drake says rather lightly. He pauses. "Or kick me. These are real threats to my physical welfare. I'd rather pull up a chair."

"Oh, c'mon," Grayson presses, reaching over Damian's stomach to pat the side of the bed that's available. "He's not going to _bite."_

Damian turns his head fast enough that it immediately becomes a throbbing headache, which makes the glare he had prepared fold up into a look of pain. Drake, with open-mouthed shock, is laughing.

"You're terrible," Drake says, shaking his head but continuing to pull up a chair regardless.

For a moment, Damian believes that the end of the torture at his expense is upon him… but Drake has the gall to take Grayson's initiative and poke _'fun'_ at the future Batman's position.

"Damian, does the League happen to cover dental?" he says, looking a little too smug for Damian's tastes. (Any Drake smugness is _too much_ for Damian's tastes.) "I'm somewhat surprised that they've not shipped you in replacement teeth already. You'd think they'd be all over that."

"No need!" Grayson reveals, having the audacity to chuckle at the small digs. "Damian only lost baby teeth this time around. Lucky dog."

There is a sharp inhale from Damian, and he thinks, for a moment, he has actually gone blind from the use of the words _"baby teeth."_ His blindness lifts and all he can see is Drake's raised brows.

"No kidding? I think I lost all of mine the first year I was Robin," he says, almost thoughtfully. "Well, looks like we'll have to give those up to the Tooth Fairy."

"Oh, hey, that's a good idea," Grayson says before he looks at Damian seriously. "You've heard of the Tooth Fairy before, right, Dami?"

Damian thinks that, the moment Grayson's sides stop providing adequate warmth, he _will_ find a way to kidney punch him. It will make this situation _slightly_ less awful.

"Okay, great! We'll just have to wrestle them from B," the conversation continues without Damian's genuine input.

"B has them? Why?" Drake says after swallowing a bite of his sandwich.

Grayson rolls his eyes. "I don't know. He's got all of our lost teeth from patrols. It's… It was adorable. But now mine are like, what, twenty? Twenty-two years old?" He pauses, lost in thought. "This may shock you, Timmy, but I think Daddy Dearest has issues with letting stuff go."

"I'll put that one down for the books - " Drake starts to snark only to look up at the swell of music from the television. "Oh, hey. I loved this show when I was little."

"Right? This channel is the greatest!"

Damian thinks if he sees one more technicolor blast to his face he might be forced to use his spoon on himself. And he _had_ been planning to use Drake's suggestion…

* * *

Between pain killers and _mind numbingly repetitive_ children's programming, Damian isn't even sure what time it is when his door opens once more and his third sibling at home enters.

Cain looks sweaty, in her workout clothes thankfully (which is to say that Damian is glad it is a wardrobe at all), and her short hair half escaped from the tight ponytail at the top of her head.

She blinks at them all then to the television.

"We're keeping our injured little brother company," Grayson explains, patting the bed space on the other side of Damian. "Join us?"

She frowns and looks to Damian. He hates when she does this - looks into everyone's very soul whether she is invited or not - then she snaps her fingers in Drake and Grayson's directions.

"Needs sleep," she reminds them with a frown. "You're annoying him."

Sometimes, Damian decides, it might be worthwhile to have Cain's soul-searching stare directed at him.

"Are not," their eldest sibling defends with a sniff, but he begins to get up anyway. "We never got his teeth, though."

"Yeah, that's on the list of things that simply _don't get done_ when you're watching cartoon marathons," Drake says with a yawn and a stretch. "Such a shame, Damian's never going to get a present from the Tooth Fairy now."

Damian glares at them all as best he can.

"Stop," their sister laughs, shooing both brothers out now by pushing them. She ignores their joking protests and shuts the door behind them.

It's surprisingly _mothering_ the way Cain walks around the room, gathers all the junk left by the other brothers on the abandoned food tray and turning off the television. She looks to Damian a few times as she moves Drake's chair back to its former position. Damian supposes it is based upon his responses. Or something. He is too tired at this point to figure it out.

Cain turns off the light and approaches Damian's bed, silently, before beginning to tuck the sheets and blankets in around him. Her smile is soft.

"There is no Tooth Fairy," she answers his never-asked-question. She looks him in the eyes. "Tim is… he's good at lying. But. It's a joke."

Damian feels his face heat up and he looks away embarrassedly, which is why he's partially surprised when his sister leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his hairline.

"You can sleep well. Now," she promises. "I won't tell them. You had a good day."

He catches her eyes and sees them shine with _knowing_ that he won't ever address out loud. He merely nods as she turns to leave.

"Night, littlest brother."

* * *

It's late and Damian has been sleeping for quite some time when he feels a broad, warm hand smooth down his hair. He opens his just slightly and is met by the very person he expected.

Father kisses his forehead. "Good night, Damian."

Settling back warmly into his sheets that smell a little too much like Grayson and Drake's dinner and are still firm against him due to Cain, Damian feels he may have a fine night after all.


End file.
